The Scholar
by CabooseHelpsU
Summary: "My name is Zaiten, unfortunate bastard son of the last Prime Minister, Honest. In my life, I have seen the rise of rebellion, and the fall of the Empire. Often, history lies to you. In each story is a core of truth, wrapped behind what people want to hear. I consider myself unimportant, yet I lay pen to page. Everything falls, and the Empire was no different." Collaboration-OC/AU.
1. Chapter 1

_"My name is Zaiten, unfortunate bastard son of the last Prime Minister, Honest. I have been labeled Emperor slayer, the Betrayer, the Great Pretender, the Scholar of Light and Darkness, and many more names- many of them unsuitable for children to hear."_

_"In my life, I have seen the Rise of Rebellion, and the fall of the Empire. I have peered into the minds of the greatest scholars and witnessed the most ruthless assassins change history forever. Some call me a savior, others call me a horrible monster. To others, I'm simply a senile fool in my now old age- and perhaps I am."_

_"Often, history lies to you. Those who survive tell the tale, while opposition fades into the dust of time. But at each story is a core of truth, wrapped behind what people want to hear."_

_"My own tale? I hardly consider it worth mentioning, but it is at the insistence of others I lay the pen to this page. My title of Scholar is on the line, after all!"_

"_And, like the many tales of old, my story begins with a tyrannical family, looming fires of war, and a love of knowledge."_

* * *

It all began with the birth of a child.

The bloodline was powerful, descending through a vast variety of royal ancestors. Many of them were warriors, or the wisest of nobles, and even a few tyrannical despots.

His parents were no different, though they led very different lives.

There was no love between them. For the father, she was a powerplay, an exotic treasure. To the mother, a fate she had long resigned herself to; _slavery_.

In the year 1000 of Imperial Reckoning, their child was conceived. He would grow up strong, ambitious, and charismatic. His name was set to be loved- and feared, by all around him.

Syura, the favored son of Prime Minister Honest.

At the time, Honest was a rising official, ascending to the lofty position of Chief Imperial Advisor. After a series of marriages and successions, he achieved the status of nobility. That's what the Emperor believed, at least.

The details of Honest's _exact_ methods were taken to the grave.

Frankly, I think it's better that way.

The mother? Even with all these years of searching, I only wish I could know more. After interviewing the surviving staff and nobles of the Imperial Palace, I have ascertained this much. She was a Warrior Princess, sent to the Empire as a bargaining chip from her homelands, the Southwestern Tribes.

Officially, she was to be a maid for the Imperial Family. Can you imagine? A young, proud warrior princess who struck fear into the Imperial Military, forced to clear chamber pots and scrub clothing in squalor.

Thus, it could only go one way when Honest, thirsting for power and lust, chose her to make an heir of his own. Consensual or not, I will never know. Power is attracted to power, they say.

Even in the throes of childbirth, her son was ripped from her arms. Honest might as well have killed her. The Prime Minister, I imagine, moved on with the belief that he _did_ dispose of her. He wasn't the type to leave loose ends.

But that tale is not for now.

Syura, Son of Honest, is well known to historians as yet another example of the Empire's corruption, and correctly so.

But, he did _not_ start off a monster. Like all children, his eyes would sparkle in curiosity. He enjoyed sweets and hated losing toys. He would cry upon soiling himself.

Most of all, he craved affection.

Within the walls of the Palace, he had everything a child could want. Food, pampering, shelter, and he apparently was quite adorable. Unfortunately, children grow to be humans. And humans have a universal want.

A need for that, which they _cannot_ _have._

In the face of all this care, within the world where everyone loved his position and not the child himself, there was only one opinion that Syura would seek; his father, the new Prime Minister Honest.

You can guess it. The story is well enough known, etched brutally into the face of history. Syura would do anything and everything in vain for his Father's love.

Everything would be permitted, and he would throw away all morals to gain what he wanted.

He would be doomed to fail, alone and despised in history.

That is until I came along.

* * *

For an entire decade, Syura's mother had been on the run. It had been down to luck that she escaped being killed, or worse, eaten, by the Prime Minister- a man known for cutting loose ends in a most unpleasant fashion.

This time, she was pregnant with another child. Wounded, on the eave of childbirth, conquered and cornered, that woman made a choice. She gave premature birth in hopes the child would be saved, to grow strong.

The newly orphaned infant was taken back to be presented before the Imperial Family..._and_ their Advisor.

That day summer day in the year 1011, Prime Minister Honest's eldest son made his first demand. Syura took his first step towards following in his father's footsteps. It would also be the beginning of the end.

"_That will be my brother!"_

The Advisor, feeling the closest thing he possibly could to pride, granted his firstborn's request. After all, only the best would be given for his chosen successor; he would teach him to take that which he wanted, through _any_ means necessary.

So on that whim, Honest allowed it.

Now given a little brother- frail and premature, but still _his_, Syura had to name him.

_Zaiten_.

Me.

* * *

Notes: Hello, Caboose here. After several years, I'm once more attempting an AgK story- this time at the behest and collaboration with Eritzzz, who approached me with this story idea. It was new and refreshing, so I jumped aboard.

I'm liking where it's going. There are far, far too many Tatsumi stories, and most of them don't actually understand the best parts about canon. There is shipping here, and we have this all planned to the end, but it's a secret on how it all actually turns out- be advised, the shipping is supplementary to the story, not the main purpose

Speaking of which, we will be following a hearty mix of the manga and the anime.

Neither of us owns AgK, or we wouldn't be here, though I've got plans to hire assassins and claim it for myself!

Maybe I'll reboot Ashes of an Empire after I finish this...

And now a note from Eritzzz: Hello, Eritzzz here, cowriting this new Fanfic with Caboose. Though honestly, I was just having random ideas. At the time, this fanfic was just a single chapter draft; I felt like looking for a beta reader. Caboose seemed like the best one, out of the other beta's. I think that's all I can think of other than we need more non-Tatsumi stuff. We need variety, people! Aight that's all from me. And thanks for giving this story a read~!


	2. Chapter 2

In a technologically stagnated Empire, the survivability of a newborn was extremely poor, particularly for the poor. While the Empire had done well in eliminating any plagues that appear, other factors- such as childbirth- were still extremely dangerous, to both mother and child.

Zaiten, going through the rigors of premature birth and maternal stress, was doomed to be frail. Undersized and sickly, he fell ill rather easily, and even with excellent care fit for a royal child, he barely grew enough to be able to function.

The only ones who cared for him were Syura, who was constantly busy, and the nursemaids assigned to him. But, with the knowledge of who his father made public, not even the nursemaids caring for him could feel attached, though they did their best to care for him for fear of their lives.

At least, not yet.

Like any other child, his physical needs were the same. Daily feeding and burping, comfortably quiet sleep (Of which was a guaranteed non-factor for nursemaids and parents alike) and changing of diapers were standard.

Unlike most other children, Zaiten would have an uncanny sense of depth perception, developed far beyond what was expected. Every time Syura, older brother and chosen heir of the Prime Minister came by, Zaiten would immediately lock eyes and smile.

He even made cooing noises and grabbing motions, though his motor control was absolutely normal- which was to say nonexistent.

At first, Syura would react with hesitation. He- being as young as he was- had no idea what to do around the squishy child said to be his brother. But even more so, Syura felt an oddly intense feeling in his chest. A warm peace he felt around no one else; even at his young age, he knew that within the walls of the Imperial Palace there would be no friends, no true rest for the son of Honest.

Syura would be very careful holding Zaiten, his eyes locking with the little gems, smiling. When he finally made to hand him off to the nurses, the crying instantly began. Recapturing Zaiten would promptly bring about little burbling noises.

It was to this that Syura felt that unique warmth, even as he put his little brother to sleep.

Later that day he was beaten black and blue in combat training, but it was worth the cost.

* * *

When Zaiten was of age, around four years old, he was allowed to play palace children, ilk of nobles and generals alike. It was quickly evident that he was an outcast- a young child had no idea how truly hurtful they could be, more so in groups.

One such was a boy named Makoto. Emerald eyes and evergreen hair framed his face, and for some reason, all the other boys and girls of the nursery listened to what he had to say. He got whatever he wanted from the nursemaids, and so when Zaiten refused to give up his little doll, things turned for the worse. Makoto made Zaiten's life miserable in ways of cruelty that only children could accomplish. After the first week, the others followed suite in bullying him, leaving him out of games, and taking away the few toys he owned.

In hindsight, it was a mistake of Zaiten to ask his brother why they could possibly treat him that way, when he had done nothing wrong. At first, he thought nothing of the anger glinting in Syura's eyes.

That quickly changed, when the other children found gum in their hair, their favorite dolls missing limbs, and naptime blankets stained with smelly fluids.

Finally, the other children left him alone in peace. It suited him, for Zaiten just wanted to read the picture books of the nursery in peace.

But as fun as that was, his happiest times were when he could see his older brother. He would come by, often looking tired and bruised from what Syura called "training", but Zaiten could always reach his arms up and be rewarded with Syura holding him. In his eyes, _nobody_ had the warmth quite like his brother, and his day would become brighter without fail.

* * *

A question lingered in Zaiten's mind.

One day, the green-haired child in the Royal Nursery had brought up the fact that Zaiten "didn't have a mother." Not knowing what that was, Zaiten wasn't bothered, since this was a boy who had always wanted to take his favorite toys.

Still, his curiosity was piqued, and he mentioned it to his older brother.

"Big Brother Syura? What is a mother?"

Uncomfortably silent, Syura didn't answer for a long moment. Then, "What brought this on, little Zaiten?"

"Makoto said everyone has a mother, except me. He said that they're supposed to be there to help you grow up and take care of you, but I still don't get it. You already do that for me, don't you big brother?"

The older boy's eyes softened, and his hand came down for a gentle pat atop Zaiten's head.

"...Don't you worry about a thing, little Zaiten. We don't need a mother as long as we have each other. I promise I'll always be here for you."

"Always?" Zaiten asked, staring up with wide eyes.

"It's a promise. Forever and ever, little brother."

As such, the thought of a mother was pushed from the young boy's mind.

He had Syura, after all.

It was Zaiten who would clap and praise his brother, even when Honest didn't. Deep down, Syura would always keep his brother's smile in his heart, and accept every doodle given to him.

Syura wasn't around often though, and his young life was consumed by training. Zaiten would all the more treasure the limited time they have whenever Big Brother was with him.

Forever and ever, they would be there for one another.

It was a promise.

* * *

**Notes!**

A little short this time, but the next ones are longer.**  
**Thank you to all those who reviewed and favorited so far. And those who haven't? The best is yet to come.


	3. Chapter 3

When Zaiten was six years old, he felt the urge to explore the Imperial Palace. Having been monitored his entire life up to this point, he wanted to see and do more things.

With eyes wide in childish wonder, his tiny legs carried him on his first adventure down the halls- much to the stifled amusement of the Imperial Guards.

Down the hall, down a flight of stairs, taking a random left turn at an intersection…

Very quickly, he was lost, though the boy remained happy, knowing that the Imperial Guards and maids would guide him back, even if they _were_ a little scary in their armor and weapons.

Some of them even gave him candy when they thought nobody else was looking.

The plush carpet underneath, hundreds of delicate paintings and statues, and a plethora of different people traversing the hallways made it an exciting experience.

After what seemed like hours, he stopped at a pair of heavy-set doors, intricately decorated with thin silver, depicting a large tree. It was easily thirty times the height of the young boy, and he spent several minutes just gawking at it. Several pairs of armored suits lined the hallway, each one older and more different than the last.

Zaiten, pushing against the doors with all the effort of a kitten, turned his wide eyes to the guardsmen tailing him.

"...you do it, Private."

The other guard, bearing a single golden line on his red sash, sighed. "Yes, sir."

The guard ignored the quiet chuckle of his superior as he moved to open the door. With a creaking groan, the massive wooden doors opened wide, and their contents elicited a gasp of pure wonder from the boy.

Unbeknownst to the boy, his guards would remain outside the library- by ancient decree, no weapons were allowed inside.

Zaiten's eyes widened as he laid eyes upon the expansive room. Easily several stories tall, massive bookshelves towered overhead. Row upon row were thousands of books, all arranged with intricate perfection. He went over to one of the shelves that interested him at first and slowly pulled it out of its spot before dragging it close to the table; once settled underneath the table and he sat on the plush rug he examined the cover.

Zaiten waddled up to the nearest bookcase and grabbed the first book within reach. It was heavy and was barely able to heft it off the shelf

"_Myriott's Dictionary and Encyclopedia of the Empire._"

To the young Zaiten, the words were illegible. While he _had_ picked up a grasp of letters and basic words, this was completely new to him.

Not discouraged, he flipped the book to a random page. Reading from the top, he traced with his finger.

"L…. o v e?" He tried to sound out, nearly biting his tongue on the new word. Even as smart as he was, a six-year-old simply couldn't comprehend the word- let alone the words after it.

So, he just flipped back to the first page and decided to start from there.

"A." So simple that it made Zaiten blink, confounded at the word.

From there onwards he began to read more and more.

As if no time had passed at all, the sun had set, and the librarian aids were lighting the lamps.

Zaiten was determined to return and read more, but he had to sleep. He bookmarked his page with a leaf he had taken from the courtyard, yawning.

Returning the heavy book was a challenge, but he was soon on his way to his room, guided by the ever-patient guards.

Again, and again, the young child returned to the library; it took him three whole days to finish the dictionary, another three to re-read and understand each word.

A week later, he could read as fast as any other person. Taking breaks only for eating and bathing, Zaiten read and absorbed the information of every book he could get his tiny hands-on.

His forays were not unnoticed by the librarians, who had mixed reactions about the youngest of Prime Minister Honest coming to the library. On one hand, they were purely astonished at the dedication and outright strangely persistent thirst for knowledge.

A few praised him for his mind, beaming with joy that someone of such importance found use in books. They were met with opposition, those who feared the boy for what he could become.

In deference to his father, they chose to ignore him in the end. It wouldn't do to bring any harm to the boy, not with Syura and Honest keeping tabs.

Oblivious to the politics around him, Zaiten continued to read. He loved everything; from fiction to educational, to romance and mystery, from medicine to poisons.

By far, his favorite subject was history. The details of those before him, from the royal family to soldiers to clever merchants, all shaping history.

One day, things shifted. He had discovered a rather dusty tome of ancient wording, sitting atop a low, forgotten shelf.

'_**The Relics and Legacy of the First Emperor: A Comprehensive analysis of the Imperial Arms, and their consequences'**_

With his curiosity piqued, Zaiten began to read the preface.

'_Under the commission of Ollisar the Great, 68th_ _Emperor and Great Reunifier of the Shattered Empire, blessed be his name, a record of the Imperial Relics, with their abilities and histories shed to light…'_

Reading from there, Zaiten found several things of note. Imperial Relics, Teigu, were artifacts of great power, from weapons capable of destroying armies to accomplishing feats of great engineering or medicine.

They were helpful.

They were also rare.

_If I found more on this for Big Brother, would he be happy? A weapon to keep him safe._

His research would be difficult, and in the end, defined who this boy would become. He would change history.

He would do it, so Big Brother would be alive, and safe so that he could hug and be with him forever...

* * *

Later that same year, gossip spread throughout the Palace, racing from lip to lip as maids, guards, nobles, and servants whispered.

A delegation from the Northern Kingdom would soon be arriving to negotiate a new peace treaty. There would be a parade, festivals, and a massive palace banquet where even commoners could be allowed to attend.

His curiosity once more getting the better of him, Zaiten wanted to know more. The only information on the North was from the books he'd read.

Smiling, he slipped into his room in search of the perfect clothing.

Unbeknownst to him, he was regarded as "_Adorable,_ _**squeeee**__!_" by the palace maids who looked after him, for his long white hair, petite face and feminine build. So it was that when female clothing was placed in his room, Zaiten had taken an immediate liking to them.

Donning a long-sleeved white shirt with an ankle-length black skirt to match, he checked himself in the mirror. His green eyes blinked back at him, framed by the locks of his hair.

"Hmm, I'm missing something…"

He thought for another minute, before grinning. His long hair was then tied with blue ribbons in a design that once had the maids squealing.

If they liked it, maybe the delegation would as well?

Walking through the luxurious hallways of the palace, he passed the servants, guards, and maids with a skip to his step.

At first, the bystanders ignored him, but soon did double-takes. There was only two white-haired youth in the castle; one was the cruel eldest son of the Prime Minister. The other? Zaiten, who was most definitely a boy.

They gaped at the child who was easily mistaken for a girl, and how his braided hair bounced to his upbeat step.

One could only imagine what the eldest would think upon seeing his younger brother looking like a girl rather than a boy.

The young 'girl' was oblivious, of course, as he skipped happily past them in search of the visiting royalty from the North. It didn't take long; he just followed the crowds…right into the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his young life.

In front of him was a man radiating pure confidence and majesty. A fur-lined cloak and gold embroidered clothes of dark blue style native to the North captivated his eyes. Waist-length hair and a firm expression graced the man before him, and Zaiten couldn't fight down the unfamiliar feeling of…

It was the Crown Prince of the Northern Kingdom, Numa.

Zaiten's heart did funny things.

Without thought, the 'girl' trailed after the Prince of the North with hearts in his eyes. Hardly anyone took notice of the young 'girl' following from afar.

All ignored 'her', except for one.

A pair of wrathful eyes spoke of promised revenge; Syura growled. His adorable brother, little Zaiten, was showing affection for someone not of the capital, someone not even noticing how honored he should be.

Someone that was not Syura.

Zaiten followed the prince that day, being spared no more than a glance.

Not that the young 'girl' cared; he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like, being praised for being cute just as all the maids had told him.

_"Notice him, you Royal Mutt!" _Syura hissed quietly in his places, close enough to listen and spy into their rather nonexistent conversation. It wasn't even that he wanted to keep Zaiten all to himself. He knew just how wonderful Zaiten could be and was determined to give his brother anything. Whomever he chose, Syura would make sure they cared for him…_or else._

To give Numa credit, he was concerned with other things; how to save the alliance between the nations. A conflict was imminent; the Empire had been breaching his lands and poaching the limited supplies and wildlife needed to survive the North.

There had also been rumors of well-armed 'bandits' taking prisoners. It went unspoken, but they were _slavers_, stealing his people and murdering the rest. The young man literally felt the weight of all his people upon his well-muscled shoulders…

Numa barely gave the white-haired girl who followed him around a glance, only side-eyeing her once before continuing towards the main audience hall. Earlier, he had split off with his parents so he could have alone time.

That, and for some reason, he was barred from the meetings they were in.

Zaiten followed the Prince of the North, and Syura followed in turn.

The times that Numa entered closed-off areas, Zaiten would patiently wait outside.

The first time Zaiten had entered a meeting with his father, Prime Minister Honest, had meant nothing but pain as Honest gave him _that_ look. It was the same look he got when he interacted with the green-haired boy he now recognized as the Emperor.

Still, he happily waited on the floor with a blissful expression, his back to the wall and his hands on both sides of his cheeks. Already, ideas of gifts came to his mind, like having a pendant made from the royal blacksmiths. It would be simple but beautiful, with the northern tribe's insignia on it.

"_He...so dreamy~_"

The radiant infatuation filled the throne room corridor as the child waited on, seemingly brightening the entire corridor with joy and sugary sweet feelings, filled with fluffy unicorns among other things.

The shadows behind 'her' were unaffected, waves of hate practically smothering it all. Syura, chosen heir of Honest, had found competition- _in his eyes_\- over the affections of his cute little brother...and he wouldn't let that stand.

"_That mutt is going to regret trying to steal what's mine…just wait until that fool shows his face again..."_

And it was like this that Syura, son of Honest, spent his entire day in a maid closet.

* * *

**End?**

_Omake 1 A Lovestruck Stalker_

**Not sure where to put this. Maybe just add this in as part of the chapter?**

* * *

Zaiten followed Numa the entire day after as well, during which the Northern Royalty attempted to bring about prosperity through last-ditch negotiations.

He was awake early enough to snatch warm jug of milk from the kitchens. Like the day previously, he wore his genderfluid clothing, and braided his hair into twin pigtails

"_He's so wonderful~" _He sighed in bliss. "_I wish he could pick me up and take me away to his castle…"_

A few minutes and an empty mug later, the Prince of the North swung the doors of his room open, much to the delight of Zaiten. His hair was still damp from a bath, adding a most wonderful sheen to it. He was already fully dressed in a blue silken linen-like long-sleeved shirt and grey pants.

Pulling his hair back to settle his ornament across his forehead, he sighed and marched through the halls once more.

Like a loyal puppy, Zaiten followed, empty mug in hand. He needed to return it to the cooks and grab breakfast later...

That could come later, following the Prince was his priority.

* * *

_**In another part of the castle at the same time**_

* * *

With no training for the day, Syura was looking forward to spending his ever limited time with the one person who cared for him. Looking as happy as he ever could be, his anticipation gave way to shock, then anger.

Standing in the doorway of Zaiten's room, one thought ruled his mind.

_Where was his little brother?!_

Scowling, he stalked to the nearest guard.

"YOU!" He barked, "Where is my brother?!"

The guard gulped, feeling the sheen of sweat across his forehead at the thought of angering the son of the Prime Minister.

"H-he left rather early sir. Already bathed and dressed…erm, strangely, in a long-sleeved sweater, a skirt with tights and shoes. And his hair was braided too, sir. Uhm… I think he was headed for the guest quarters-"

"Ragh!"

Syura growled loudly, turning on his heels to exactly where he knew Zaiten would be.

Now ignored, the guard flinched and returned to his position, extremely nervous; the look on Syura's face was one that spelled danger to those who angered him. Just like Honest.

That meant death in the most gruesome ways possible.

* * *

It was bad luck that Syura found his brother- _and the meddlesome mutt_\- as they were vanishing around a corner.

_So_ many thoughts of cruel and unusual torture ran through the mind of the Prime Minister's son. To him, Numa was stealing what was his _without even appreciating it!_ That was unacceptable… but he wasn't allowed to do anything to him with the current circumstances.

His brother was blindly following Numa like a lovestruck fool, and Syura was not pleased. To ensure Zaiten's safety while stalking the Prince of the North…

* * *

Zaiten, seeing Numa enter the Royal dining hall, stopped his following/stalking and quickly went off to one of the kitchens to grab his own breakfast.

He swore he could feel like someone was watching him but looking around he saw no one. With a sigh, he returned to his hunt for food, and musings on just how wonderful Numa must be.

Syura, having no problem with being allowed into the dining hall, settled for finding some food himself. He always ate here with his father… but knew Zaiten wasn't allowed such privilege.

Biting back a scowl, he entered the dining room with a blank face. Seeing the Northern Mutt nearly brought up the scowl again. Taking his seat next to his father- who was eating his 'usual' meat- Syura helped himself to bacon, sausages, eggs, cheese, bread, and a glass of juice.

He ate with the ferocity of a growing boy in early puberty, but still kept watch on Numa out of the corner of his eye.

Finished eating, the two royal families left for a more private area to speak about the alliance; Honest followed heartily, them while the young son of the emperor was escorted away by a guard.

This left Numa to do as he pleased, choosing to explore the city for the remainder of the day.

Still stalked by Zaiten, Numa would walk out from the palace and onto the grounds, passing through the buildings and mansions that nobles lived in that surrounded the palace, and outside the the royal walls.

It made Syura's blood boil, but he placed a lid on it for now as he shadowed the two once more…

* * *

Soon enough the two reached the gate to the Ninth and centermost Ring of the city; the main gate to the Royal Palace.

It was rather majestic, manned by hundreds of guards, towering over everything with a portcullis, archer towers, and heavy metal gate. The soldierly part of Numa couldn't help but be impressed…and a little worried.

They were professional, though some couldn't help but eye Numa with contempt…and Zaiten with shock.

Memorizing their faces as targets for letting his brother out so easily, Syura stalked past them; punishing them could come after he made sure Little Zaiten was safe. The mutt wouldn't do anything to him, not if Syura could help it.

Syura followed them in the shadows of the alleys, his clothing was too distinctive that his brother would easily notice it was him if he saw him.

The two ended up walking some parts of the city as Numa browsed through various things and Zaiten was just following right behind or beside him. A little afternoon Numa had stopped at a cafe and ordered something to drink and eat, Zaiten following suit as he had a glass of cold milk and potato wedges.

Syura leaned a couple of buildings down, his back to the wall and behind his little brother so he couldn't see him. The mutt would but he probably won't take notice of his presence so much.

The two stayed there for a while, with Numa drinking tea and silently looking at the people passing by, though he would glance curiously a few times at the girl seated opposite him. His eyes passed over them with deference.

After finishing his tea and Zaiten his snack the two stood up and walked off again but this time back to the direction of the palace.

Syura followed, being his brother's hidden guardian angel. (_Or devil if you readers know what terrible things he's doomed to commit)._ Secretly protecting his brother from ruffians or would-be assassins while he was in the shadows was all he could do.

The daily stroll through the city became a regular occurrence when Numa wasn't with his parents. The treaty was bound to take a long time, considering how much was at stake. The two would enjoy the Royal Gardens in particular, lush and vibrant with plants

The library was another stop, though Zaiten paid less attention to it; after months of exploring it, he knew the books like the back of his hand- the section he was allowed into, at least.

The two would sit reading books for hours, not that Numa showed to notice his follower.

On only one occasion did Numa visit the training grounds.

Spear in hand, the Prince of the North took the chance to spar with guards. What started out as a friendly match turned into a frenzied three-on-one. Whirling, lunging, and wielding his spear with cool precision was the most impressive thing Zaiten had ever seen from the prince. Even though Zaiten didn't particularly care for hurting people, the sight of Numa dripping sweat made him weak in the knees.

Numa defeated each opponent, even when outnumbered.

_That is so cool!_

* * *

There were no words between them, but sometimes actions speak louder than words.

At first, Numa let Zaiten follow him on a whim, not bothering to worry about a harmless girl. Soon though, his curiosity won out; Zaiten's beaming smile was unstoppable, for he himself felt a bit better by the day.

Numa was even happier when Syura was gone- of course someone of his caliber could notice the angry teen without a sense of stealth.

It just so happened that the Northern Prince allowed Zaiten just a little closer when the Prime Minister's son was gone, be it training or with his nasty father.

One day, Numa even bothered to give Zaiten a smile. Discreetly, of course, almost as an afterthought.

The negotiations eventually came to an end; the North had finally gotten what they needed from the Empire, at the cost of several trading contracts and reducing tariffs. In return, the Empire was to cease and enforce any border excursions, all in the name of limiting conflict.

* * *

Knowing this, Numa finally gave in to the persistence of the rather adorable child following him. It was atop one of the highest tier gardens of the palace; the weather was warm, and the setting sun lit the sky alight. They sat on benches opposite of a large fountain, enjoying the silent spewing of water.

"…you can come over here, you know."

Zaiten nearly jumped backwards into the water in shock. _He hasn't addressed me directly before, so why now-?_

Hesitantly, he did so, scooting awkwardly up to the Northern Prince. Entranced, he watched as Numa withdrew his hand from a coat pocket, which he opened and held toward the 'girl'.

"Here, take it. You don't need to be so shy."

It was a locket.

The face was engraved with the emblem of the Northern Royal Family. It was of polished silver and a matching chain, but Zaiten's amazement came when the prince flipped it open; staring back from the locket was Numa himself, a slightly mischievous smirk gracing his face.

"Here, it's yours."

With that, the locket was lifted over Zaiten's head. Numa took gentle care to flip the 'girl's' hair out of the way.

Zaiten was speechless. "W-w-w?"

His heart did funny things.

"You've been following after me for some time now. I can…admire that dedication. I suppose that this would be a good reward…" Numa trailed off as he stared into the distance. The garden ledge gave way to a brilliant view of the ancient city, sunlight dancing off the many lakes, rivers and metal spires.

Blushing a bright red, Zaiten spoke and broke the quiet.

"T-thank you… Your Highness…" Before he could stop himself, Zaiten found himself wrapping his arms around Numa's waist in a hug.

Numa's reaction was an amused grunt, and even a headpat, though he didn't hug back.

He had more important things to worry about…and was already engaged back home.

A rumble came from Zaiten's tummy, and he let out a laugh. The first laugh he had, ever since coming to the capitol.

Zaiten's heart did more funny things, even as Numa gave him another head pat.

"Come now," The Prince knelt, "let's go get something to eat. You enjoyed those crepes, no?"

They looked each other in the eye, then broke out into pure, ever so happy laughter.

Though Zaiten _knew_ Numa would soon leave, even though there never was a chance of them being together, at that moment Zaiten was content.

Two members of vastly different worlds, doomed to never meet again, smiled. Thoughts ran through both their minds and for that moment, they were together.

They mutually smiled.

"_This…this is enough. I wish this would never end. I wish time would just stay put."_

They mutually worried.

"_I wish…for everything to be alright."_

They mutually thought.

"_**I won't forget this moment.**_"

And they were together.

~End~

* * *

**Author's Note: **Here we are again, a chapter done so soon.

We hope you enjoyed it.

To those who reviewed, it was _your_ words of encouragement that spurred us to write this chapter so soon. Thank you. Same goes to all you readers- I can see what countries you are from~ Arigatou Gozaimasu, Danke Schon, Spasiba, etc.

For all who are wondering, no, this is not a pairing to be. We are following canon. We all know how this goes.

Numa is doomed to rebel and be _crushed_ by Esdeath. We are, sadly, not changing that.

This is, however, essential for building Zaiten from a Mary Sue to someone that is an actual person. My goal is for you, the readers, to relate to him. (And yes, Zaiten is honestly a trap- he is obviously very genderfluid!)

Are you not entertained?

* * *

**Extras: Queries between Authors!**

"**Hey Caboose? How does Honest actually feel/think about Zaiten?"**

"Well. To know that, you got to understand his character- difficult, because the author never gave him a backstory. The author just wanted to make the worst person ever to hate.

He was so bad, so horrible, we would overlook the fact that Night Raid _is_ a bunch of brutal, merciless murderers. We don't know where he came from, but we know he's trained himself to survive. He's smart but hides his personality beneath a foolish glutton.

He's also a cannibal, so +10 disgust points. As for how he thinks on Zaiten... He only respects strength, as seen with how he doesn't do anything against Esdeath- that could be both cowardness and respect. Zaiten is, early on, just a weak, frail child that doesn't have his genetics, so he's not his real son.

But Honest always has backups, and he kept him around more because Syura, his chosen heir, wanted it.

That said, this could still go anywhere. Let's not mention how this affected Syura since it's obviously covered already."

* * *

**Heyo, it's me again; Eritzzz.**

I don't really have much to say but I just wanted to give Numa a little bit of love. Considering he only had like 10, maybe 20 seconds of screen time in the anime and maybe 2 or 3 pages in the manga.

This will be all that we see of him directly, for the entirety of the fanfic- maybe a few flashbacks, but no more.

Of course, you can be sure he'll be mentioned when Esdeath arrives. (Caboose: Maybe even actually show the fight? Not that I'm any good at writing those…)

Me neither. Though I think Esdeath just curb stomped them… well, there was the crushing of his spirit? Maybe we can add something there?

(It all depends on what you readers want!)

Anywho… That's all from me~! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter while I'm working on the future ones!

Oh and one last thing. I'll just leave Zaiten's appearance here.

Eye color: Green, speckled with gold after a certain event

Hair Color: White, the same as Syura in the manga (but prettier).

Skin color: Pale skin, barely any tan to it as he almost looks like an albino. He doesn't have Honest's skin…

Hair style/length: Shoulder length hair, slightly wavy.

Height: Currently 4'2; at age 8 will be 5'2; at age 12, 5'4 at age 15.

(**Essentially, he later has a face like the story cover image**)

**Updates will be a little slow as things can get a little hectic for me and my brain gets too tired to think.**

**This should be all for now. And thanks again for giving this fanfic a read~!**


	4. Chapter 4-1

**The Scholar 4-1**

**Note: Caboose here! This chapter is the first of several parts, depending on how we've broken chapter 4. Eritzz and I were joined by a volunteer to help us, 'An Exile'. He's got good stories too.**

**See you at the bottom!**

* * *

Zaiten sighed in boredom as he finished the last page of his book. Big Brother was already away on a hunting trip, and Zaiten had already managed to read all of the books within the library- at least, the sections he was allowed into. There were several wings of the Royal Library that were closed off, and he didn't dare anger the ancient, withered Librarian or her Automaton Guardians by breaking the rules.

The old lady especially scared him.

He got up from his seat, thumbing the locket tied around his neck. The locket he had received from the Prince of the Northern Tribes held both the image of Numa _and_ Big Brother Syura; his most important people.

He had added Big Brother's picture there a month after he had received the locket, always able to have a bit of extra happiness in his pocket.

He'd spent enough time in the library for the day, and was getting hungry. With a sigh, he gathered his books and strode back the way he came. He walked past all the tall bookshelves and lines of books, slippers pattering softly on the carpet. Turning the way he came, he left the Library with a bored expression on his face.

"_I miss big brother already… He always has something for me to play with or just with him…_"

The young genius quietly kept to himself, though he stopped at a windowsill to gaze over the Palace Courtyard.

As usual, the scene would be breathtaking. The view gave him a vantage point unlike most any others in the capital, surveying the city for as far as the eye could see; lakes, rivers, plazas and parks, all cordoned within the walls ringing the city.

Beyond the outermost wall was practically empty, merely farmland tilled into different shapes, specked with the occasional town.

'_The... towns…' _His eyes widened at the thought.' _Outside the wall…?'_

* * *

Zaiten has never visited outside the 6th ring nor even outside the palace grounds- with the exception of his short time with Numa. To the Palace Guards, allowing Zaiten into the capital without him was just a guaranteed death in the most brutal way possible.

Perhaps his rampage for allowing Zaiten to follow Numa instilled that fear- over a dozen men killed, maimed, or simply gone.

All of this, of course, was unknown to the young boy, and Syura intended to keep it that way.

* * *

Curiosity piqued at the thought of going outside, Zaiten began to think.

His books, of course, had quite a bit of information on the outside; be it the many heroic tales of heroes long past, evil warlords, or even economic agriculture. There was also, of course, mention of manual labor, medicine, mercantilism, and even mercenary work.

The more he thought, the stronger the urge became. Grinning to himself as he sat in that windowsill, the androgynous boy plotted and schemed his next great adventure.

He would get a disguise, (_not too difficult, as the palace maids loved dressing him up so he'd picked up on a few things_)

He'd need a disguise though since he wouldn't want the people outside to remember him and start spreading gossip about a white-haired boy with green eyes around the city.

Though he probably already had gossip going around about him from following around Numa for a whole week or two.

Or maybe they forgot already? Hopefully, they wouldn't remember too much.

_If Syura, or worse yet, Father found out..._

Zaiten gave one last look out the window; past the wall and out onto the greenery that filled the outer parts of the towns rather than the tiled roofs of the city. He smiled with determination before walking out of the library. He powerwalked the hallways, up the two flights of stairs, and down one more wing to his room.

He demurely waved to all the passing the guards, maids, and other castle goers. Most of the time, he was scowled at, or just ignored. Those who didn't, however, found a smile upon their faces. It was still rare.

Zaiten was doing nothing wrong, not at all. It was the mere fact that he, one of the Prime Minister's sons, could have them executed at the drop of a pin, encouraged most to avoid him. However, despite this and his shyness, the servants who worked for him couldn't help but smile fondly in his presence. The young, waifish boy, would never wish ill upon anyone.

Entering his room, Zaiten approached his large wardrobe, something gifted by Syura for his last birthday. Since then, Zaiten had been filling it with any clothing, wigs, and accessories he could get his hands on.

The maids also had a habit of 'forgetting' makeup in his room. It was upon their nudges, winks, and barely hidden giggles that he kept it all. Attempts to return it, or ask for the reason, was met with more laughter and headpats.

Those were nice, he decided as he rummaged through what he had.

Meticulously, he rummaged through various clothing; some common looking clothes, others the same as other nobles would wear. In the end, he went with a heavy woolen cloak, boots, black pants and a grey longshirt.

He fought the urge to include a yellow headband for his long hair, no matter how cute it was. _Perhaps there's really no hiding my hair, though?_

Turning his head, the reflective surface showed his stark white hair. He frowned, running his fingers through his rather soft locks.

_...my hair is too distinctive. Even in the palace, there aren't many with white hair._

There _was_ that one general, though Zaiten didn't ever learn her name. She seemed quite scary, like most other soldiers.

Running his hands through the locks of hair, Zaiten gave a sigh. Opening his expansive closet, he stopped in front of the 'wig' section. There were plenty of 'common' colors, chiefly browns, blacks and blondes but there were some uncommon oranges, reds, blues- _and Numa's small but genuine smile flashed across Zaiten's mind_\- and silvery hues, to name a few.

His hands quickly skipped over the winterish blue; _that _color wasn't something that would help him much, considering whom it could be likened to..

Esdeath, the up and coming General who had single handedly demolished the uprisings in the south, was someone that Zaiten would utmost avoid, though he could certainly appreciate the Empire being safe. She was simply terrifyingly powerful.

Breaking out of his thoughts, the boy selected a mixed brown wig, slightly overgrown but a pleasant sheen. Absentmindedly, he stuffed it into his rucksack, where he had placed the other elements of his disguise.

Next, he moved to his notebook and flipped to a later page. There, a schedule and floor layout of the Imperial Guards patrols were sketched- with immaculate detail, of course. Zaiten couldn't help but appreciate and pick up on neat handwriting, after his fair share of books. (Not much annoyed him. Bad handwriting was certainly that 'not much).

The Imperial Guard was an elite group that certainly lived up to the prestige and responsibility of personally guarding the Palace. Each soldier, experienced from the many campaigns, excursions, and border patrols throughout the expansive Empire, had to survive a long ten years in the military. Then, the candidates required a letter of recommendation of both a noble _and_ a high ranking officer to attend the special training; a training regimen overseen by the Great General Budo himself.

Less than twenty percent made it, and there were often dozens of casualties out of a hundred potential recruits.

With all this information in mind (_He had managed to pry the information from his many different minders, persisting with both cuteness and kindness),_ Zaiten knew he had no room for error. Shifts were often erratic, with 'surprise' patrols being the norm. Also of note were the many traps that activated during the night hours. To avoid the traps was the first thing Zaiten had been told, by both his brother _and_ the guards, at all costs.

Before he could sneak out though he would need to know when the guards wouldn't be there so he could get out. If he were to get caught he didn't want to know what punishment he might get and big brother wasn't here to make excuses for him or save him.

Still, he had found a way, and had the support of the right people- his personal maids and servants.

"...now, to find Sophie-"

His plotting and scheming were interrupted rudely by his stomach, demanding it is satiated before any more mischief.

"...I'll leave _after_ she feeds me~"

* * *

Passing through the hallways he would give waves of hello to the guards standing about, mostly the ones that did reciprocate his kindness. It was nice that some of them didn't care about him being the Prime Minister's son as he acted kinder than Honest or his Big brother.

He went down a few flights of stairs, turned a couple of corridors, and walked through some doors but he managed to reach the kitchen. Not the main one as he wasn't allowed in there but the one that was closer to the side of the castle that he was in. He stood by the side so as to not trip any of the chefs or get stampeded in the bustle of the kitchen. He waved his hands at one of the chefs who were kind enough to him and the one that mostly cooked him his food. Father would never allow him food from the grand kitchen unless he was invited to a banquet and his presence was required.

The kindly lady chef walked up to him as she leaned down and patted his head softly with a warm smile. "What can I get for you dear?" She asked with the back of her hands on her hips.

"Oh, just some dinner please~" He tilted his head in a way he knows people seemed to like.

"Can I ask for some dinner please~?"

It was something he always tried whenever he asked people. It didn't always work on men, but it was super effective on his brother! He would just stare at him (_Hiding a nosebleed_) before giving him a hug. It was great~!

Sophie gave a happy chuckle and gave the little noble another pat on the head. "Of course dear. Just wait a few minutes and your dinner will be ready~"

Zaiten took a chair in the corner while waiting. His mind wandering into his thoughts about his plans into sneaking out of the castle; he wasn't sure if it was easier to sneak out of the city than the royal palace. But he still wanted to get out and explore, to know what it's like out there and experience things to write down and see if he could help.

Sophie returned a few minutes later as she promised; a plate in hand with his dinner on it and a glass of cold milk so he could grow up to be tall. Not that Zaiten was getting any taller. He's noticed.

His dinner consisted of fillet chicken, some pork cutlets, mashed potatoes and a side of vegetables. He took the plate and glass from Sophie and thanked her with a smile.

"Thanks, Miss Sophie~!"

He walked off to eat outside in the corridor so he wouldn't disturb the other chefs or probably spill some of his food by accident and make one of the chefs slip and cause a ruckus. Sophie only smiled back at him while giving him one more pat to the head as he left and returned to her duties as a chef in the kitchen.

Zaiten walked out into the hallway and sat down a couple of steps away from the kitchen door so he wouldn't get hit if someone opened the door abruptly and he gets hit in the face along with spilling all his food on himself.

Once settled down on the comfy floor he began to dig in with gusto and smiled at the delicious food.

"So tasty~"

He at and looked out the window as he walked. The sun was setting, bathing the capital in orange light. The warm colors made him smile, added to the sparkles of the lakes and buildings.

Idly, his thoughts extended out past the walls, musing on life outside the palace.

Some corridors and flights of stairs later, he managed to arrive back into his room and locked the door before pulling out his bag that he was packing earlier. Zaiten pulled open the bag and took out the pure black cloak; he thumbed the material and hummed as he felt that it was made of fine silk. He wondered why it was so dark like a moonless night, but he'd have to learn about that another time.

He was about to place it back when he stopped mid-action; he could wear it now and sneak out to watch the guards shift on the inner wall or he could wait till later. Either way, he'd have to stay up and away so he would know what to do. After a moment of contemplation, Zaiten returned the cloak into his bag. Climbing up to his work desk, he took a blank piece of parchment from a drawer and laid it bare on the desk while taking an ink pen.

He then began to draw up a map of the castle from his memory as best as possible, (_Something which would be considered quite impressive, not that the boy knew_). It mapped in detail each wing to go down, as well as where to avoid. For the guards, he used his coins to mark out temporary placements. He could place permanent ones later.

"_Now then… The guards outside my door seem to change shifts every midnight and noon, sometimes 6 in the morning to noon and noon to 6 in the evening and vice versa. In shifts of 6 hours or 12 hours…_"

He laid out his plan as he moved the coin pieces on the map; soon enough he wrote that info down onto the part of the castle that held his room. The castle was huge though, and there were many guards roaming about too so that made it harder.

_Sneaking out of my room would be the easy part but then that leaves the rest of the castle… But I can easily circumvent that if I use the secret passageways in the castle. Thank goodness that a copy of the castle blueprints is lying about in the library!_

_Now if those secret passageways are unguarded, I should be able to take the one down the hallway that leads out into the gardens._

He drew a line leading from the hallway a couple of meters away from his own room, down to the garden which was lightly guarded with a two-man patrol going around every now and then. He drew an oval around the gardens to signify the guards.

_The guards have eight-hour shifts, they usually circle the rose hedges and go off to the other side with the arches so I should be out of their sight. I can sneak out from the palace grounds... but I'd still need to exit the 9th ring._

He paused as he began to wrack his memories to see if he could remember anything that could help him get through the large wall. Thinking back to the secret passages, he tried to remember which ones ran out to the city... a servant supply tunnel.

The pen hovered over the spot, and for the first time, Zaiten hesitated

It was next to the gardens and barely guarded, but had dangers of its own.

The passage began directly inside the servant's quarters, meaning that if he were to do that, others would get involved.

Failure on his part, indeed, would get them in trouble, and he had no idea what would happen then.

_Would they let me do this... or try to stop me?_

Turning his face back to the main castle his eyes wandered over to the servants quarters and the various passages they use for getting supplies in from the city.

_I'll just have to trust them._

He encircled the servants quarters and nodded. The plan was set, he just needed to get down there undetected by the guards.

He gulped, and made his way out of his room he went out of his room again; the moon had already risen in the sky and the dark had crept in. It would still be a while before his nightly exploration would start to seem weird to others.

So, with a resolute expression and (childish) plan in mind, he walked down the corridor towards the servants' quarters.

* * *

He walked past a couple few guards on the way down the flights of stairs, giving them a usual wave and smile. Only a handful seemed to notice, while the others ignored him completely.

One more flight of stairs down put Zaiten in front of his destination. Though quiet, not all servants had retired for the evening.

The few servants remaining were ones that he knew. The first of them, a tall woman with waist-length silver hair, took first notice.

"Oh, Lord Zaiten? What a surprise."

"Good evening, Irene~!" He waved, looking up at the tall woman.

He turned to the next servants, identical twin girls. "Hello there, Sora, Sakura!" One sported pigtails, the other a side-ponytail; the only way he could tell them apart was their hairstyle and slight differences in their peach pigmented hair.

Then he turned to the last servant, "Kaito, good evening!"

An immigrant of the northern Kingdom, Kaito sported raven black hair and narrow facial features, giving him a rather intimidating scowl on his face. He was only a few years older than his brother.

He was, when Syura was away, the closest thing to a male 'guide', not that he'd hit puberty yet (Or so the servants told him, but he was fine with how he was, diminutive frame and all). Officially, he was just a butler, though Zaiten meant to ask why he had such a limp in his left leg, and always wore sleeves.

The servants, no longer caught off guard by the surprise visit, perked up in their seats a little.

Of most all the nobles of the Palace, Zaiten was perhaps the purest, treating them as real people. They, in turn, had become something of a family to him.

Clearing her throat, the lead servant Irene cleared her throat.

"Good evening, my lord. May I ask why you are here in the servants' quarters at this time?" She asked hesitatingly. "It is nearing the bedtime your brother set for you."

Her tone was soft and caring, quite a contrast to her normally strict verbiage. Her silver hair glinted in the low candlelight of the room, let down rather than in her usual high-top ponytail. Irene, like the other servants, reserved such a genuine tone for Zaiten, seeing he was one of the few to not mistreat them.

Despite being a runt with little socializing skills (Or rather, not caring for it), Zaiten had found love in his time alone. He had entered the life of each servant with persistence, asking questions and offering to help.

Of course, they had all declined, but the boy did so every time he saw them, and in no time at all, each and everyone had requested to serve him specifically.

"I…"

He gulped, suddenly realizing that his plan might not sound so good spoken aloud.

"Yes, dear?" Irene encouraged, well aware of his poor speaking skills. "We're ready to help you."

"I, uh...recently, I've been wanting to sneak outside the palace, and explore the capital!" He blurted whispered nigh inaudibly, "_And I don't want any of the others knowing I went out…"_

""What!?""

An electric current ran through them all, and they jumped to their feet. Only a glare from Irene kept them from shouting- even in the servants quarters, being too noisy at night was asking for trouble.

"B-but my lord!" Sakura gasped, holding her hand to her mouth in shock. "Lord Syura specifically ordered to never let you go without proper escorts-!"

The others nodded in agreement, with Kaito checking to make sure nobody else was near to eavesdrop on the conversation. This sort of thing, if found out, would kill them all, if not worse.

The young butler, seeing Zaiten's stubborn look, added to their concerns. "M'lord, we would do anything and everything to serve you, and that is exactly why you should know. It is ...unsafe, out in the city, particularly at night."

Pickpocketing. Kidnapping. Raping, drugging, enslaving, and even murdering. It was the very reason the servants of the palace could turn a blind eye to any wrongdoings from within the palace; surely, as bad as things were, it would be much worse out _there_.

Zaiten gave a slow nod, to show that he _was_ listening to their input. He decided to hear one last opinion before deciding his choice, so he turned to Irene.

Staring with her silvery cool expression, she studied Zaiten's eyes. Finally, she shook her head and flipped her platinum hair.

"I have the feeling that you might go no matter what we tell you," she sighed. Cutting his protest, the eldest servant gave him a pat on the head, "I know you listen to us, but who's to say you won't last another month, with that curiosity of yours."

"That _is_ true," The twins giggled, thinking back to all the times his childish tendencies had gotten him into amusing predicaments. "If you had to go, we might as well prepare you well! Besides, you may even like it out there!"

"But," Irene continued, "may I be so bold as to ask your reasons, m'lord?"

"I ...want to see what it's like out there. In books, there's always stories of happiness and sadness. Sometimes, there are people that need help, or at least a friend, or others who can just have a fun life! I want to have the experiences of those books in person. I want to do this so that I can try to help people with what I know…"

After staring at his feet uncomfortably, he looked up to see the servants staring at him with slight awe, though worry was still in their eyes.

"You… That is so, so sweet of you m' lord. You're far too kind for life in the palace. And, despite our positions, we've no choice, but to help you. But-" Irene raised her finger sternly, "please be back by the end of the week, Lord Zaiten. Your brother is returning in two weeks' time from what I've heard."

Her tone was resigned but accepting.

_That's good, at least…_

Normally, this is where everyone would tease about her hair becoming grey or something along the lines of aging. She'd respond with a smile, a doubled workload, and gentle karate chops to the head, saying she was still young.

Reassured that his friends supported him, Zaiten gave each of them a hug, which they all reciprocated.

"Be safe out there, you hear? There are monsters lurking in the shadows and we don't want to feel guilty for letting you go out there alone." Kaito told him, looking his young master in the eye. "And come back by midnight, okay? We'll help you sneak out."

"Oh, and don't get caught by the guards!"

"Keep your money hidden well, and never show it all. Have your dagger at all times!"

"And remember to have enough hygiene tools, like your toothbrush and hair comb!" The twins added, concerned that their master's beautifully soft hair would get ruined.

"Don't get caught in a scam, okay?"

Zaiten couldn't help but smile brightly; they were all concerned for him, worried about him. To them, he mattered.

With this thought, he gave them all hugs one more time and left to his chambers to prepare.

"Let's pray that he'll be okay out there," Irene said.

They nodded in agreement before continuing with what they were doing earlier before Zaiten had come inside…

* * *

Zaiten waited patiently in his room, he distracted himself and tried to stay awake with some success as he drank water every now and then. He splashed water onto his face and ate his candies at a slow pace as best as he could.

He looked towards the moon; the clock tower wasn't on his side of the palace so he wasn't able to know the time but he could still hear the bells tolling when it strikes midnight… Zaiten gave a frown as he sat down on his bed and gave a yawn, maybe he could just take a small nap…? Yes, that sounds quite nice, just a little rest-

_No, snap out of it!_

Shaking his head to stay awake, he drank more water and tried some light exercises to keep his heart pumping

The two hours finally passed, and Zaiten quickly donned his 'gear'; the charcoal silken cloak and the black wig, followed by his rucksack.

Slowly pushing his door open to find the guard station empty, he smiled as he quickly snuck out into the hallways. Whenever he heard voices, he the boy dashed into the nearest closet to hide.

While hiding, Zaiten overheard a pair of guards making their rounds.

"-and I'm telling you, _neither_ of the Prime Ministers sons is right in the head!"

The other guard shifted the grip on his halberd nervously. "H-hey now, you've had too much to drink! We'll get in trouble...besides, the youngest one ain't so bad. He says good morning every time he walks by, treats us as people!"

His partner's pleas passing by him, the first one belched. "Bah! The little runt? He's got no spine! And, I bet, he's lacking the pair between his legs, if you know what I'm saying?"

"You're gonna get us sent to the stocks, you fool."

By then, they had already passed around the corner.

Still, Zaiten couldn't help but frown. He didn't really care how others saw him since he knew that the important people already loved him, but did others truly have to be so mean?

A tense minute and flight of stairs later, he arrived in the servants' quarters.

The lighting was dim, but most of the doors were closed, meaning the majority of servants were asleep. However, servants often worked around the clock...at least, so was the pretense that Sakura, Sora, Kaito, and Irene had to be playing cards around a table.

Casually, the looked up over their cards and nodded, before seemingly not noticing him. Irene, the most senior of the servants, beckoned him into a side room.

Irene leads him into the darkened room, holding a single shutter-lamp. The room was dark and musty, lit only by the lamp. It took an effort not to bump into any of the many crates and shelves stocked with bags, wooden chests, and other mysterious items.

With a quick push on a wall sconce, a small passageway opened up. Taking him by the hand and holding the lamp in the other, Irene led the boy down.

It was a quiet walk through the passageway but Zaiten was fine with that. All was quiet until Irene had spoken.

"My lord… It's already late already, but I refuse to let you sleep out on the streets. I have a cousin who lives in the merchant's district, a blue-tiled roof right next to 'Gidion's Flower Shop'. Just look for the sign on the outside and knock on her door; her name's Lillian, and let her know who sent you."

Zaiten nodded instantly; she had a motherly tone that he couldn't fight, even if he wanted to.

She said to him in a motherly tone as Zaiten listened to her intently as he gave her a nod at the end. He knew he would have needed somewhere to sleep and it was probably not advisable to sleep in the streets with what he's read from the books.

"Yes, Irene-san. I promise I'll make it there," he smiled, brighter than the sun, "you don't have to worry too much about me okay~?"

That's what you're supposed to say when people worry about you, right? According to the many adventure novels, of course, of dashing rogues or brave knights being seen off by fair maidens...

"See to it, my lord."

Silence resumed, and the only sounds were their footsteps on the cobblestone floor.

Soon enough, they arrived at the end of the tunnel, blocked by a heavy wooden door. Silently unlocking it, Irene cracked it open, before opening it wide. To their luck, the area was empty. With a nod she turned back to Zaiten who was already in his disguise, the black cloak upon his shoulders and the wig hiding his stark white hair.

"The coast is clear, my lord." She said, giving him a final pat-down, "You can go down this lane there, then go four streets down that way. _Please_, m'lord, be safe out there. I'm afraid we wouldn't last the night if you were to be found hurt."

Even as she said that the servant gave him a hug that felt warmer than usual.

Zaiten nodded. "I promise, I'll come back safe! I don't want you to be hurt!"

With that, the adventurous young boy left a bounce in his step.

"Oh my boy," she breathed out as he disappeared, "I'm afraid that is inevitable…"

Fighting the weight of guilt, the maidservant returned to the servant quarters.

...She would find no rest that night.

* * *

**END!**

**Thanks for the support so far. **

**It seems that Zaiten, for all his book smarts, still doesn't understand the consequences of who he is, or what his actions would mean. In case you didn't pick up on it, if he's caught, all of the servants would be slaughtered and tortured, as well as their families. 'Cause you know, Akame ga Kill, where the villains _have_ to be bad guys by killing innocents.**

**I would like to address some concerns made by Guest Reviewers. You know who you are (*Glares*). I can't respond because, surprise, they're guest reviewers. Just know, This is not a Syura centric fic. He's not gonna be perving on Zaiten, and this isn't 'sum gay fic'. I promise. He's going on a trip very soon.**

**Also to clarify, we will be sticking closely to canon as best we can. We're not gonna drastically alter the timeline, and we'll do our best to include Night Raid in a proper way, as well as members of the Jagers. (Esdeath too! *w*) This means that the Rebellion and the final battle is definitely going to happen, but the path we take will be a mystery~**

* * *

Eritzz: Hey there, readers. Sorry for the long wait. Took us a few months to get this posted, we already had some content written. I and Caboose were talking about whether or not to post the entire thing since it's really long but in the end, we decided to just cut the chapter up into parts so you guys have something to read while we edit and write the rest. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

* * *

**We will get the next chapter out soon(ish). Maybe after I watch a movie. Perhaps Saga of Tanya the Evil?**

**Caboose out!**


	5. Chapter 4-2

_**Note: The following is the result of multiple re-writes, delays, and overall banging my head against the wall as the world around us falls into a panic from COVID-19 (Oh, and stay safe, folks, best of luck). I eventually cut out a lot of content, to improve the original plan we had for it. This is the third and final part of this chapter.**_

_**Thank you for your patience~**_

* * *

**The Scholar 4-2**

* * *

Lillian Varrix, a recent widow of Gideon Varrix, was a stern woman. While her height was only just average for a citizen of the Empire, her presence demanded respect in even the most drunken of soldiers.

Her eyes, though losing their sight at a much too young age of 45, were a steel grey, matching the metallic streaks in her auburn hair. Her build was slight, but she had a wiry tenacity to her strength, handling heavy loads of laundry, soil for the plants, or saplings with practiced ease.

A woman like her wouldn't normally be considered as "flower shop" material, and sometimes she found it hard to agree. It had been her late husband's dream to own a shop, and Gidion Varrix was the most flowery a man could get.

His death at the hands of mercenaries- though they were said to be mere highwaymen, had hit her hard. Not even a body was left, or if there was, a Danger Beast had long since snatched it up.

He had been a jovial man, potbellied and balding, and he had a laugh to match. He had always been the kind one, and she was the realist.

"_You're too soft,"_ she had once told him. Her foolish husband had just given a pocketful of coins to an old, legless beggar who claimed to be a veteran of the old Occupation Wars. They had just gotten out of earshot of the joyfully crying beggar when she pulled the foolish man aside for a scolding.

The man had boisterously replied with a bear hug, "_Only to even out your steel edges, m'love!"_

…..When a sword lost the leather wrapping around the handle, what good was it? What use was a sword in a flower shop? _She belonged on a battlefield, preferably dead with her husband, not __**wasting away here**__-!_

A few taps on the front door, almost too soft to hear, pulled Lillian from her dark thoughts.

The sun was just below the horizon, painting the capital a purple twilight. This time of day, there wouldn't be customers. Most folk would either be preparing dinner, sleeping or visiting taverns.

Lillian cursed. The door was locked, but she had forgotten to take the "Shop's Open" sign down, and she _really_ wasn't in the mood for customers. The door knocked again, and the aging woman fought the instinct to reach for her hidden knives.

_That_ was a particular habit that'd left her husband exasperated to no end.

"Just a moment," she called, making her way to the front door.

With a squeal of rusting hinges, Lillian peered at the newcomer. All she could discern was a brown cloak and strings of fine obsidian hair.

Whoever they were, they were short, to the point she couldn't see a face under the hood. "Yes?"

"Hello~!" A muffled young voice said, "Are you Lillian Varrix, of Gidion's Flower Shop?"

The aging woman narrowed her eyes. "Yes, I am. Kid, usually manners are to introduce yourself as well." She had made a guess that she was dealing with a child, a guess that turned out to be fruitful.

"Really? I'm sorry then! My name is Zaiten."

Lillian raised her eyebrow, impassive and most _definitely_ not amused.

The child paused as if noticing. "Oh, and don't worry, it was your cousin Irene who sent me!"

"Irene?" Fighting off a sudden onslaught of dread, Lillian's eyes widened. "What happened to her? Is she alright? I _told _her that viper pit of a palace would be the end of her, money be damned-"

The hooded figure, Zaiten, flung out her arms in panic. "W-wait a minute, Miss Lillian! Nothing bad happened, Miss Irene is alright!

Lillian relaxed a bit, letting out tension and dropping her hand from the concealed dirk. "You mean, she's not hurt, or being threatened?"

The figure nodded, and she forced a sigh. Against her better judgment, she couldn't help but _feel_ the earnesty radiating from the child- and they _were_ young, she could tell that much.

"Alright, kid, I'll believe you. But, that leads to _why_ you're here. But," she added, "You can do so inside, I'll warm a kettle for you."

* * *

Five minutes and a mug of jasmine tea later, the two were sitting around the small dining table, an iron pot hung over the fire. The scent of roasting beef, vegetables, and tea combined, so it was no surprise when the stranger's stomach rumbled.

A pregnant pause.

Lillian raised an eyebrow, and gestured to the fire, "It'll be done in a minute. I'm not much of a cook, but it should be filling enough…"

She trailed off, not knowing the girl's name. Her hood was still up, hiding their features, but the old merc could tell that whoever they were, they were tiny, fragile even.

Many times, she had seen such people join mercenary groups like hers, only to get cut down the first moment of battle.

"A-ah!" The figure started, reaching to take down their hood, "you can call me, uhm…."

Their hand stopped when Lillian shook her head. "If my cousin sent you out, it's in _both_ our best interests for your identity to remain hidden. It's not the first time she's sent an illegitimate noble out of pity…"

The girl fidgeted uncomfortably, laughing. "Oh, um, yes, I'm an illegitimate noble, just trying to leave the palace...ah-hah, hah."

Deadpanning, Lillian stared.

_Just how inexperienced _are _nobles these days? She probably can't even use a butter knife, let alone that dagger is hidden at her hip!_

Zaiten inwardly cringed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

_In Zaiten's dreams that night, he walked an ancient, dusty corridor. Stretching endlessly into the darkness, as far as he could see, were towering bookshelves. One foot, following the other, he wandered seemingly without end._

_Oddly enough, he wasn't reaching out to each and every book. The constant, thunderous thirst for knowledge was...there, yes, but dulled._

_And he walked on._

_Though he couldn't tell where he was, Zaiten didn't mind. On occasion, the bookshelves were interspersed with statues. Knights in plated armor, nobles with regal bearing, and ancient-looking bearded men holding scales, books, or flowing cloth._

_One after another, they passed by him, but he paid them no mind._

_And there was, of course, the faint whispering, nigh inaudible._

_For each statue he passed, the sea of voices grew, as well as the frequency of the statues. The shelves of books began to lessen in size, and their contents grew older. Books became scrolls, and scrolls became tablets of stone, clay, and brass._

_He walked on._

_It was close now, he could feel it. What 'it' was, he didn't know, but he had to find it!_

_After the instant of an eternity, he stood before a final statue, this one standing out more than all of the rest. Flowing robes, a scale in one hand, a book in the other._

_A face, hidden beneath a cowl and behind a mask. Knowing that he was there, Zaiten stepped closer... hand outstretched…_

* * *

Morning came and went, and although the straw mattress was far less comfortable than the plush beds and down pillows of home, the warm stew, and jasmine tea had done wonders for Zaiten.

The flower shop (Who's namesake, Gideon, was nowhere to be seen) was a two-story building. His room, as well as the master bedroom and kitchen, was upstairs. Though small, his quarters weren't cramped, and Zaiten had enjoyed opening the window for the fresh cool breeze.

On the first floor was the nursery, filled with hundreds upon hundreds of different flowers that Zaiten had never seen before- well, partially. Books couldn't count, in this case, though the Imperial Gardens had at least as much splendor.

He had missed it the night before though, his attention occupied by the rather intimidating woman, and that there was little light.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Gidion's Flower Shop was the greenhouse in the back.

Without paying mind, a dictionary entry came to the forefront of his thought, automatically.

_**A greenhouse, also called a glasshouse, or, with sufficient heating, a hothouse, is a structure with walls and roof made chiefly of transparent material, such as glass, in which**_ _**plants**_ _**requiring regulated climatic conditions are grown.**_

(What didn't occur to Zaiten at the time was that no, photographic memory was not normal, nor was the voice that seemed to speak at the back of his mind.)

A voice broke his train of thought.

"...-id? Hey, kid, snap out of it. I've got porridge for you downstairs, so don't complain if it's cold!"

Lillian had disappeared as suddenly as she had arrived, presumably to finish breakfast.

The mention of food was met immediately by his stomach, rumbling it's complaints. Almost chidingly, he rubbed it. It took a minute to break the haze of sleepiness, but soon his shoes were on. He took his time, noting the extra details of the shop's living areas on the way down.

He had never seen what commoner dwellings were like, outside of pictures and books; Far too often focused on mystery or adventure, though he _had _gone through a very dry and outdated book on architecture from the previous three centuries ago). This place, being a flower shop, had a surprising amount of weapons on the wall, and there were even a handful of picture frames leading down the stairwell.

Most of them were of Lillian and another man, whose bright smile seemed to light up the frame, and complemented the blank or scowling expression of the woman. Next to a river, sitting in a field of flowers, the man's comical expression while eating strange food, and a reluctant grin from Lillian sitting at a cafe table.

A faded, black and white photograph caught his attention. It was placed high, just out of reach, but it made him curious nonetheless. _**Collodion devices, modern devices of the last century, were top-of-the-line tools for high quality, used dry plates of light-sensitive silver salts to act as capture mediums, and are state of the art**_...or at least the yellowed pages of a magazine had claimed.

Judging by the crisper and colorized images in the other photos, Zaiten's sources in the library were pitifully out of date. He made a note of that before focusing on the picture.

This one depicted nearly two dozen people. They wore leathers, chainmail, or cloaks, and bore enough weapons to outfit a company of Imperial Guards. Broadswords, crossbows, halberds and pikes, axes, and two knives.

Two knives, black and sporting jagged curves...gripped by a much younger, happier Lillian, hands resting at her side.

Before he could dwell on the old photograph, his stomach growled, telling him that when sausages and porridge were on the line, there would be no stops.

"I'm coming down, Miss Lillian!"

* * *

Lillian didn't stop herself from giving the girl a 'thousand-yard stare'.

One could call it outward suspicion- and indeed she _was_ wary of all strangers, but the real reason she didn't avert her eyes was surprise.

The girl sitting before her was even smaller now that she had forgotten her cloak. Even with her _painfully_ obvious wig tied back, Lillian could tell that this newcomer was of noble heritage. Everything, the petite frame, high arching jawbones, and emerald eyes simply screamed ancient heritage.

If not for the obvious looks, Lillian would be second-guessing herself. The child ate with enough gusto to match a full-grown man, let alone a girl her age.

"...fhwaht ish it?" The child asked, cheeks stuffed in a chipmunk fashion.

_That's dangerously adorable, damnit!_

Lillian didn't say it out loud. Instead, "I didn't think nobles would ever eat like that, let alone a little girl like you."

The stranger had the decency to look embarrassed- adorably so, cheeks faintly tinged.

"Hauw did-" she swallowed her food, _still_ being adorable in the process. "How did you know I was a noble?"

"You just told me." Lillian couldn't help but smirk at the girl's panicked look. "That, and you shouldn't have taken such a fancy cloak."

"O-oh. I'll have to remember that…"

_Good, she's not completely braindead._

She leaned forward with her hands clasped under her chin. "So, what are you doing outside of the palace? Did they run out of warm milk?"

Just out of habit- _definitely not because she wanted to test the kid_\- she started tapping her feet rhythmically.

(Zaiten found the noise to be soothing, piercing stare aside, but it wasn't anything near what he got from father…)

"That's silly, Miss Lillian. I drink a lot so I can grow big, but not _that_ much!"

The stare intensified. She never liked sass talk, certainly not in her own home…. even if the kid _was_ adorably innocent about it.

"No, it's just that...I wanted to go outside!"

_What._

"What." She stated her thoughts audibly.

_The sheer airhead way the girl said that_…Lillian gestured for her to go on. "You...just wanted to go outside the palace?"

The child- _and Lillian was suddenly regretting not learning the name_\- eyed the unfinished heap of eggs before her as if it was a matter of life and death.

Before she could shovel another mountain into her mouth, Lillian stopped the child with a glare. Timidly, she responded.

"I wanted to go outside, to see more than the palace. To go outside the walls and visit farmlands, really, but... The city, with all the shops and people! The farmlands, outside and free from the walls and mean-looking guards! Inside the palace, it's stifling. People glare at me, I don't have friends, but most importantly, I need to _know_!"

Lillian would have scoffed. A noble growing up in such a cushy environment would never know just how _good_ they had it. Food, shelter, a society with rules and free from death. She wanted to scoff, at just how similar it was to those idiotic novels.

And yet, there was something about the noble's expression that made her stop. Was the Palace _free_ from intrigue, subversion, and murder? Would a young noble, illegitimate and obviously unique, have friends or family, someone to rely on?

More importantly, this child had just expressed a wish to _know_. To know the genuine lifestyles of her subjects.

Considering what most nobles were like, was that wrong of her to discourage?

A quiet, traitorous voice whispered from her memories. '_Is this not what you wished for, so long ago?'_

"-ian? Miss Lillian, are you alright?"

The aging mercenary shook her head, clearing the stupor.

"Fine, kid, I'm just fine." Leaning forward, she grinned and looked her in the eye. "So, what's this about adventuring outside the walls?"

* * *

Zaiten couldn't believe his luck.

The scary woman was really kind after all. Her smile, even with the scars, was still a smile. He may have been young, but he knew that while everyone could smile, only good people could have good smiles.

It really was as simple as that.

So yes, the day was going well. He had a new friend, a better cloak for blending in (_Though he had pouted at how coarse it was, in contrast to his old one)_, and was now on the way to his destination; to learn agriculture in the farmlands.

The crepe in his hands was merely a bonus. According to the vendor, it was called _Blin_ in his homeland; a sugary, sweet, heavenly bonus that made him sigh in bliss. All too soon, it was gone, leaving him unexpectedly filled yet empty at the same time.

Out of idle curiosity, Zaiten looked around for Miss Lillian, but she was nowhere to be found among the much taller crown of people. The market was bustling, but he knew that Lillian would easily find him, so long as he stayed where he was.

Still though, it was very tempting to explore…

Behind him, he heard a muffled sob. Even though the market _was_ noisy, he stood on the bench to find the source of it.

There, back to the wall, was a young girl. She was crouching with her back to the shadowed wall, somehow managing to hide even with her neck length, orange hair.

Zaiten made his way over.

"Excuse me, miss?" He crouched, "Are you okay?"

"uuwa?" The sobs paused, and the girl looked up through her hands. She opened her mouth to say more, but quickly shook her head, eyes squeezed tightly. "don'wanna talk to strangers."

"…why?"

"Mama and Papa say not to talk to strangers."

That got Zaiten thinking. Growing up in the palace was lonely, and as much as he loved the servants who helped raise him, it _was_ their jobs. Feeding him, clothing him, dragging him from the library for dinner…and head pats, of course!

But, despite all of that, he never truly experienced the love of a mother, right? What _would_ a mother say to that?

"Well, miss, my name is Zaiten, and though I don't have a mother, you can talk to me now!"

"B-but I'm lost, and you're a stranger." The girl sniffed again.

Zaiten smiled, "But I'm _not_ a stranger, you know my name~! Now you can tell me yours, and then we'll be friends!"

Unable to resist, the orange-haired girl smiled back. "My name is…"

* * *

_**The innocence was lost to both of those children, living in their own different worlds. They sat there, surrounded and seen by hundreds of adults, yet unnoticed; that day, a spark formed. Such a spark would burn unnoticed, like a small ember beneath a foundation of wood, but it is the greatest of flames that have the humblest of beginnings.**_

_**As it turned out, that little girl was merely lost for a moment. Her parents, alongside their old acquaintance Lillian Varrix, had been discussing the recent series of Danger Beast sightings outside the Farming District. The old merc had decided against Zaiten's little expedition, at the end of it, and had called on the Captains of the City Guard to return the young noble home as a favor between old war friends.**_

_**Lillian Varrix, after all, was their old drill instructor.**_

_**The adults returned from the Guardhouse to a heartwarming sight of two young children; huddled together and sharing a crepe, their smiles shone with all the brightness of the sun. Obliged to scold their daughter, the young married couple couldn't keep a grin of their own from appearing.**_

_**Though her parents would soon perish to the treachery and chaos of the coming times, the life of the little girl had already changed, though for better or worse is difficult to determine, at times.**_

_**The young prince of self-made exile had made a lasting friend with only a smile and innocent question.**_

_**What was her name?**_

"_My name is Seryu! Seryu Ubiquitous!"_

_**And she would be my greatest, most worthwhile friend.**_


	6. The Scholar 5-1

The Capital of the Empire, sprawling and lifelike, was seated firmly in the most fertile river Platte of the land- an area once known as the Plains of Koroth. Abundant in clean water, plentiful forests, and ringed by steep, well-defended mountain ranges that cragged for as far as the eye could see. It was marvelously beautiful, harboring the mighty Empire for a thousand years...

And from the tallest tower of the Imperial Palace, two men gazed upon the fertile land they effectively ruled.

Both men were tall, though the more dominant of the duo could be described as a hideously bulked monster- true, and the man agreed, but that didn't mean he _wouldn't_ place his accusers in the deepest, most horrific dungeons in the Palace for saying such.

The Emperor and his Wife were now dead, leaving the young princeling Makoto behind. And who better to guide the child but him, Prime Minister Honest? The fat man grinned, so satisfied with this "Tragic turn of events" that he didn't even hunger for meat.

...not very much, at least.

Behind him, Syura waited patiently for his father to speak. He didn't know if his father was the one responsible for the tragedy...but he didn't really give a damn about the stuffy Royal couple anyways.

Down on the streets, the common rabble flooded the streets in mourning for their Emperor, to which Syura and Honest scoffed. The filth of the city were just that; filth, no better than the stock animals that filled their dinner plates. Short of (former) The Beggar's Feast, the Palace had always remained unsullied from commoners. Now that Honest was in charge, of course, they wouldn't even get _that_.

Then, movement in the otherwise empty garden drew their gaze.

Zaiten, with his silvery long hair and waifish looks, settled cross-legged upon a bench with a large tome. Silent and giddy, the child cracked open the ancient tome and began to read. He would spend the next few hours there, simply enjoying his book...and completely oblivious to the happenings above him.

Funeral ceremonies and mass mourning forgotten, both men's thoughts turned to the child.

Honest barely bothered any thought for the boy, and when he did it was out of sheer distaste. Hatred of the weakness that _dared_ intrude on the rearing of his chosen heir. Syura's claim to the wretch was the _only _reason he lived.

For Syura though, it wasn't quite the same. Even grown-up as he was, he couldn't help but gaze fondly at his younger brother. Long hours spent telling stories. Smuggling extra sweets from the banquets for the lonely boy. Just being near Zaiten brought a unique sense of peace and joy...

Honest and Syura, father and son, were both despicable human beings. Both were already guilty of crimes against humanity itself, and history dictate things would be worse. It is history as we know it, after all.

Yet, there would always be _one_ humanizing aspect to the young monster Syura.

It was the only thing that set the two apart.

Even monsters could feel love. The special warmth in your chest, the genuine smiles and praises...and like any monster or demon, he had something to protect at any cost.

He would, of course, brutally torture and kill those who would dare try to hurt him; to assassinate anyone that let the boy go to dangerous places where he could get hurt. This was something that Syura had privately vowed to himself, but he also had his father to please. Like with that _bastard princeling_ or the pesky young Imperial Heir, not everyone was within Syura's reach. No matter how much he wished otherwise, Syura wouldn't always be there for Zaiten.

Still, a faint smile graced Syura's face ...until Honest spoke up.

"My son, you have proven that your training has gone well. Although…" Syura stiffened as his father paused. "You've been growing soft around the brat. He's been making you weak."

Honest praised his heir one moment then insulted him the next as easily as breathing air. His demeanor changed easily from a gluttonous fool to a dark and devious man. Like a pit viper, enticing one moment and poisoning his prey the next.

_My little brother hasn't been making me weak! He's been supporting me and making me strong... __**old man!**_

Syura grit his teeth, wanting nothing more than to pound his father's face in. But, he wouldn't survive saying such things aloud, though he was sure Honest knew _exactly_ what he was thinking.

"But," the Prime Minister continued, "now that you're old enough, I believe it's time for you to head out, and _truly_ experience the world as it is." Honest turned back to his jovial self with a hearty (_disgusting_) chuckle, followed with a swig of wine.

Syura's glare smoldered to a stop as he realized what Honest was saying. Killing intent became faint curiosity, and not a little pride.

"I want you to roam the lands; train your technique, gather some strong people, and get yourself a teigu. When you feel like you've grown strong enough, come back to the capital and I'll give you a job." He explained casually as he swirled his drink, staring down the neck of the bottle. "Don't disappoint me, son. If you are to become my heir, you have to be _useful_."

"Of course father." Syura grinned eagerly. "I'll make sure that anyone in my way shall be crushed."

"Hmph, good, good. As expected of my heir! But, don't tell the brat about the plan. Otherwise you'll always be a pathetic failure. Like _him_."

The words froze Syura's heart, but he quickly shoved the guilt aside, nodding. "Of course, father. He won't find out until I'm gone."

Inside, his consciousness, a voice cried out in protest.

'_This means I can't...I can't be there for him, when others hurt him..!'_

However, he silenced that voice, knowing that _now_ was the chance for him to become great, and appreciated by Father!

"I'll be going then, Father. I won't fail you."

Honest hummed, halfheartedly, as he gulped the rest of his wine attention already turned back to the view of the Palace courtyards.

For Syura, it was the beginning of his long journey into the history books. It was also the beginning of the end.

* * *

Smiling, Zaiten flipped the page of the book with careful precision. The content held within the ancient, yellowed pages were fascinating...the knowledge truly remarkable! Wordlessly, he pursed his lips as he silently read, tracing his finger along with the engraved letters on the tome.

The sound of footsteps made him pause. It was a sound that he could always recognize from anywhere! Just as he had his whole life, Zaiten lifted his head and smiled joyfully as Syura approached him.

His book lay, temporarily forgotten, as he met his brother halfway and hugged around his waist.

Yet…

Something felt off to the boy.

Syura wasn't smiling...and he _always_ smiled around him!

Suddenly uncomfortable, the minuscule boy shuffled his feet on the cobblestone path. With deliberately widened eyes, he whispered, "Big brother?"

He broke the hug.

'..._it didn't work? B-but he could always get a reaction with the "doe eyes"! This...this is wrong.' _

Wrong, so wrong, that the joy and warmth Syura always gave him was gone. That the one person who truly loved him, who was always there for him...was no longer smiling. What had happened?!

…

Even as the younger brother's upper lip trembled, Syura's heart ached. Father was watching, no doubt. Finally, after all these years, he was being given the one thing he wanted: approval! And yet…

He had _also_ sworn to himself that nobody would make Zaiten cry into the dark hours of the night...and that included himself. By leaving…

Syura would make him cry. He already _had_.

The thought sent a searing pain into his chest, burning and searing into his soul. It took all the strength not to rush forward, to hold the child in his arms and comfort him that yes, everything is okay, that he would never leave.

This pain...was _nothing_ compared to what Father's training had put him through.

Still, he had to say something. His precious little brother deserved that much. Breathing out a deep sigh he spoke to Zaiten in a low tone. "I am leaving, little brother… For a long, long time… I'm sorry."

He could say nothing more. They were being watched.

Zaiten's eyes went wide in shock, his eyes started to tear up a moment later. The boy took a step forward as if to hug him again as the tears flowed down his cheeks.

But.

It wasn't allowed.

So he stood there waiting for his brother to.. to stop. As if, by waiting there, Zaiten would learn to stop his tears.

They would only mean more suffering here in the palace.

_However_….

The young Heir of Prime Minister Honest, Syura, hardened his resolve. Syura, the older brother of Zaiten, would be gone with this last act. He growled to the pair of guards standing frozen a dozen meters away.

"If a single lock of his hair is harmed by the time I return, you will _all_ answer to me. Understood?"

Quelling the rebellious pain in his heart, Syura turned away from his silently crying brother. The guards, caring and devoted to their young charge already, nodded eagerly. They had long ago grown used to both Brothers and knew that when Syura made a threat, it was just as real as the Prime Minister's promises of pain.

And, with that, the story of Syura, the Song of Prime Minister Honest, was set in stone.

Bloody. Merciless. Bound for a brutal end as a monster to be put down by Night Raid.

Doomed.

"_Forgive me, brother."_

* * *

**Note: And so, we take the next step, accelerating faster and faster towards canon. Syura is leaving...and he _will_ be almost exactly the same as he was in the original tale of Akame ga Kill. Are there still going to be happy moments between him and poor, lonely little Zaiten?**

**...perhaps.**

**Before I finish, can anyone spot the reference I made very early on in this chapter? It's _ very_ obscure, but it's a hint to the very, very overarching idea I've had with my first Akame ga Kill fic (Ashes of an Empire, I think it was called? I removed it long ago, but I will re-write it as a sequel to this, of sorts.)**


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